


anywhere in the neighborhood of emotional vulnerability

by TolkienGirl



Series: Vintage Winchesters: Season 1 Tags [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Het Relationship, Episode: s01e13 Route 666, F/M, Gen, letting go, my original SPN fic like...6 years ago was for this ep lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25078009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl
Summary: Sam is going to say something.Dean is never going to see her again.
Relationships: Cassie Robinson/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & John Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Vintage Winchesters: Season 1 Tags [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777720
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	anywhere in the neighborhood of emotional vulnerability

Sam has cleared his throat three times in the past five minutes.

Sam is going to say something.

Dean is never going to see her again.

“Where to?” is what Sam asks, in that _I’m the responsible one now_ tone that would be even more grating if he hadn’t been perfecting it since age eleven.

If Dean says _hell if I know_ , or _Vegas_ , if he reaches for that low-hanging fruit, he’ll have said too much. Sam will press and press on that tell, make him deal out different cards, explain what he’s been trying to forget.

“Let’s try Kentucky,” he answers instead. “I could go for a mint julep.”

“It isn’t Derby season,” says Sam, because of course, Sam knows that kind of rando bullshit. It sustained him in childhood. Learning things that didn’t matter to Dad, as well as things that did.

Latin, but also German. The history of dark places, but also presidential trivia.

And Dean? Dean doesn’t know what he’s learned.

A library: Athens, Mississippi. A girl with warm skin and cool eyes. 

_I’m a realist._

Cassie is not the best thing that’s ever happened to him because he is an imperfect substrate— _ha, there’s a word for Sam_ —and good things cannot happen to unworthy people. Not good things, at any rate, that _last_.

If he goes in for the hope and prayer, he’ll fall through faithless clouds. Right down to earth, and the highway, and the bitter goodbye.

Sam speaks up again, mid-afternoon.

“You hungry?”

If he says he isn’t, Sam will press.

“Sure.”

There’s nothing particular waiting for them in Kentucky. Sam knows that, too, and suggests that they find a motel.

“That way I can poke around,” he says. “In the journal. Find something else for us to do.”

So it’s less about finding Dad, now, and more about keeping Dean occupied. Sam is worried, or sympathetic, or still half-amused, or something.

“Whatever you want,” Dean says, pretending he can make this about Sam by the power of a few flat words.

They eat a fairly slow meal, because Kentucky fried _is_ damn good and because they are in between uses. Aimless. Dad always hated to be aimless.

Dean has a set list of things he hates. Most of them are ugly.

Cassie is beautiful, and he’s never going to see her again.

They step out of the chicken place and survey an open sky. Sunset, that day, is the same as a bruise. Angry, red-streaked, down to violet, down to nothing.

“Lonely,” Sam observes, appreciative. Then, “Maybe we should do laundry.”

Dean should. Dean should wash the scent of her perfume off his clothes.

If he sighs, Sam will press. 

Dean has a set list of things he hates. Dad taught him most of them.

“I wonder if anyone ever burned Colonel Sanders’ bones,” Dean says, and that gets a laugh out of Sam, which is just enough time for him to snag the keys from his brother’s palm.

He’ll drive.


End file.
